Peach Cobbler
by red-coffeemaker
Summary: After Cas is overcome by Leviathans, Dean and Sam take a recovery trip to Savannah, Georgia. Dean runs into an all-too familiar face, who now goes by James. The brothers believe that Georgia can be a little pit stop, but Dean sees it as a second chance for his relationship with Cas. Destiel fanfic and smut in later chapters :)
1. A Familiar Face

Authors Note: This story is based on this amazingly wonderful Tumblr post- .vu/post/96113436217/forever-place-dcbb-2014-coming-soon-november

Reviews/ favorites are always appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Dean watched as his brother packed the trunk of the Impala. Silver, guns, stakes, he was counting everything to make sure it was all there. Pretty soon they'd head out on the road, despite it being two in the morning. The odd job hours didn't both Dean, however. He wasn't sleeping lately. Sam would, right in the passenger seat, exhausted from chasing the vampire they were hunting. In the morning they would grab a greasy breakfast at whatever diner in whatever town they'd end up in.

Currently they were in Savannah, Georgia, after Sam caught a headline proclaiming three people had their throats slit. When they got into town, it turned out to be a newly vamped man that was wreaking havoc on civilians.  
Dean took a swig of his beer before rubbing his eyes, pulling away from the motel curtain. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. After losing Cas the job felt more and more like a burden than a heroic duty. The sleepless nights, the nightmares, the constant moving without a direction, it was weighing him down more and more.  
He walked out the door and approached his brother, the only other person in the empty parking lot. Sam turned to him as he approached, and he could see what the job was also doing to his brother; disheveled, messy hair, drooping bags under his eyes and pale complexion.  
"Ready to go?" Sam asked. Dean gazed at the trunk of the Impala- rosary beads, crosses, Devil's trap, sawed off shotgun, silver bullets- and all he wanted to do was shut the trunk and never open it again.  
"I've been thinking... y'know, why don't we take a vacation?" he suggested. Sam looked at him in befuddlement.  
"What?"  
"This place isn't half bad, and..." Dean struggled to find persuasive words, "I think we earned it."  
"Where is this coming from?" Sam wondered. Dean shrugged and turned his eyes to the ground. The older brother didn't want to say it- that Cas' death had made a huge impact on him, that he had nightmares of it over and over, that some nights he would creep to the Impala and hold the angel's trench coat. He felt stupidly sensitive over an angel that betrayed them, but he couldn't help it. Something inside Dean said that even if Cas screwed up big time- which he did- the hunter would still need him.  
"Dean, the demons and monsters... they don't take vacations," Sam pointed out.  
"C'mon, Sammy, we're human! We need a break every once in a while," Dean cried out, his arms flapping up in total surrender. There was a pause as Sam's will power deteriorated. "Can we at least stay the night? I'm exhausted."  
"If we're going to stay longer, we'll have to find somewhere better than this shitty place," Sam replied, turning to give the shoddy motel a judgmental glare. In fairness, Sam was right. The dilapidated building, with its cracked walls and cobwebs, was not a good place to stay, especially at the rates they were charging.  
"Fine! In the morning." Dean was enormously relieved that Sam consented. He wasn't sure if he would or not, or even if he wanted him to. Nevertheless, finally Dean could have a break. He walked right back into the motel and collapsed onto his bed, sleeping a full four hours.

When he came to, Sam was sitting at the table, typing away at his laptop. Dean squinted at the light, and rolled out of bed.  
"Coffee?" Sam asked, holding up a cup with a local store brand written across it.  
"No thanks," Dean remarked, bypassing his brother and going to the questionably stained fridge where a six pack was waiting for him.  
"Bet that's going straight to your liver," Sam scoffed, not looking away from his computer screen.  
"Let's hope so," he answered off-handedly as he sat across from his brother. The chair creaked in a way that supposed no one should sit on it. "What are you looking at?"  
"Sublets in this area."  
"Oh, yeah?"  
"Yeah, I figured if we found a nice place to crash a couple of months we'd be okay. A lot of these are old couples looking for people to help around the house."  
"Did you mention that our only skills are killing monsters?" Sam peered over his laptop to give Dean the stink eye.  
"No. I've been chatting with this nice old couple that are looking for someone to help around the house... yardwork, dishes... stuff like that."  
"I've never washed a dish in my life, Sammy."  
"Well, you're going to have to learn. It was your idea to stay, and even though I didn't really want to, I know that since Cas-"  
"Don't."  
"Dean-"  
"I said don't," Dean cut off. He looked his brother in the eyes, warning him not to go there. Sam sighed.  
"I'm just saying, I understand. And if you need time off to just... chill. I get it. And I want to help." Sam gave him a sincere look, the one that made Dean want to laugh in his face and break down at the same time. The look he used all the time to families who had lost loved ones to monsters. And Dean realized, what was the difference between him and them?

"Fine. So about this couple..."

"Their name is Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. They live on Chestnut Lane in a spacey house, white picket fence and everything. Their son just moved out to become a teacher up in Macon."  
"So what's the catch?" Dean asked as he turned onto the Fisher's street. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat with the Fisher's ad up on the screen. Dean peaked at it wearily, not sure what to think of this near perfect situation.  
"No catch. They still have a sectioned off part of the house where the son used to live. Kitchen, utilities, the works." Dean parked on the side of the road in front of the big white house and shut off the engine.  
"One bedroom?"  
"Yeah but they have a futon."  
"Super."  
"Don't be such a baby, Dean."  
"I'm not. Let's just go," he grumbled as he swung open the door and got out. He walked up the driveway, Sam not far behind. They were both examining the house in silence. It was pretty big, with a garden full of hydrangeas and blossoming flowers. The shrubbery and trees surrounding the property were in full bloom in the June heat. The windows were wide with white stiles intersecting the glass. And, of course, the cliché white picket fence rising out of the lush green grass. It seemed like the most peaceful place in the world, untouched by the horrors the Winchesters had seen.  
Dean knocked on the door, for once not wearing an FBI suit with a fake ID in his hand. He was just Dean, in faded jeans, boots and a plaid shirt rolled up to the sleeves.  
A black woman that couldn't even touch Dean's chest opened the door. Her hair was whiter than the house, with eyes brown yet faded by age. She was wearing a long church skirt with a patterned t-shirt. Her face instantly brightened when she saw them.  
"Oh, hello! You must be here for the sublet!" Dean glanced at Sam only to see the charming smile that Sam wore when dealing with civilians.  
"I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean." The older brother raised his hand in a wave. The woman's face was alighted with a smile.  
"Harold, Sam and Dean are here!" she called out from behind her. "Please, come in. The heat is just dreadful today."  
She stepped aside for them to come in and closed the door behind them. She treaded in front of them, talking about how old the house was, what Confederate general lived there... etc. They walked into the foyer where a dark, old man sat. He stood up when the trio entered. Harold's face lit up just like the old woman's did. He was wearing brown pants held up by suspenders over a dress shirt adorned by a red bow tie.  
"Why, hello, my name is Harold and this is my wife Tatiana," he said, bringing his arm around his wife's shoulder. Sam made the introductions again as Dean tried to look as non-threatening as possible. "Please, sit."  
The room was compromised as a sitting area, with identical couches facing each other and a coffee table in the middle. The couches had gilded edges with floral, plump cushions. The coffee table was a deep brown with plated glass. Atop the coffee table was a pot filled with some sort of twisting vine that flowed downward.  
"We're so glad to meet you, Sam and Dean," Harold grins.  
"So about the house..."  
"Well, we're willing to let you live here in exchange for your labor. We don't need any money, but we're both too old to do some of the chores, and you boys would be definitely helping us out," Tatiana supplied.  
"You'll pay for your own food and groceries, but water, electric and Wi-Fi is for us to worry about," Harold added.  
"That sounds great," Dean smiled. He noticed Sam peering at him, and he realized it was the first time he smiled in weeks.  
"So what kind of jobs would we be doing?" Sam asked.  
"Stuff like mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage and recycling, helping us in the garden if we need it, and if the house needs any special treatment."  
"We don't- we don't know how long we'll be staying," Dean said.  
"It would mean everything to us if we would supply boys without a family a home, for as long as you need," the old woman said in a motherly voice, "we're empty nesters for the first time in twenty-six years, and it would be nice to have young folk around."  
"We'd love it. Can we see the place?"  
"Of course." The old couple got up and showed them to the back door. Outside was another door that led to the sublet.  
Inside was a small living room with a TV and couch, a kitchen with a dishwasher, and a two person, round table.  
"The bedroom is upstairs, as well as the bathroom," Harold told them. The brothers looked around the room. It was quaint, like a motel room except a helluva lot nicer. The couch didn't have weird stains on it and the ceiling didn't have water damage.  
After checking out the bedroom upstairs (only one queen sized bed, which Sam won after a brief rock-paper-scissors match) they told the couple they would love to move in as soon as possible.  
"We have to get to church, but how about this- you can come back at around four to unpack your things?" Harold asked.  
"Sounds great," Sam said. They left the house feeling giddy and hopeful. Georgia seemed like the perfect place to settle for the time being. The brothers hopped into the car and headed for the motel in town.  
"Wanna grab a bite before we head back?" Dean offered, seeing an old wooden sign for a 'Southern BBQ'. Sam was leaning against the door, seeming to be dozing off.  
"Uh, yeah sure," Sam agreed sleepily. Dean nodded and pulled into the back parking lot behind the restaurant 'Beau's'.  
Dean opened the door and went inside, Sam following. The inside of the restaurant was fairly small, with cracked booths and chipped tables, smoke billowing out of the kitchen. There was a bar directly in front of them with the standard eating area to their left.  
"Just two?" The hostess asked, picking up two menus. Sam nodded, and they were led to a booth in the back. They sat in silence, only a few people in the whole restaurant. Most of them looked like they hadn't moved in years, with big bellies and even bigger beards. They watched the hunters as if the Winchesters were the hunted. Dean tried to ignore it and perused the menu.  
"Dean," his brother started. Dean glanced up. "I think- I think this can be really good for us."  
"Yeah," he replied gruffly, before casting his eyes back to the menu. "So what are you getting?"  
Sam seemed pissed that he couldn't have a brotherly moment, but Dean ignored it.  
"I can't imagine the lettuce here is fresh..." Sam muttered.  
"Oh, take that organic, home-grown crap and shove it up a rabbit's ass."  
"I'm sure that's what they mean by... 'Beau's Rabbit Stew Surprise.'" Sam grinned. Dean awarded him a small smile. He knew his little brother was always worried about his mental state. He did have a good reason to.  
"Hi, my name is Jessica and I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you off with something to drink?" The waitress said in a mechanical voice that proved she had said this opening line hundreds of times before. She was innocent, a college student with straight, dark hair and a cleft chin that somehow made her cuter. Dean glanced at Sam, his face as emotionless as brick.  
"I'll have a beer," Dean spoke up.  
"Yeah, me too," Sam said quietly, still not looking at the waitress.  
"Okay, and are we ready to order?"  
"Yeah, I'll have the 'Beau's BBQ Special' with fries and no coleslaw," Dean replied, then looked cautiously at his brother.  
"Uh, I'll have a BLT with fries, thanks," Sam stuttered, glancing at the waitress and then away. The girl had a confused expression on her face before taking their menus and swiveling away. Sam looked slowly up at his brother, then darted his eyes away. "Sorry."  
"Don't be," Dean answered, knowing nothing else needed to be said.  
They finished their meal, Dean grabbing the receipt and leaving five bucks on the table. They walked around the corner and headed for the front.  
Dean glanced up, and his first thought was that this was all a wonderful, fantastic dream. He was so shocked he stopped walking, causing Sam to ask what's wrong.  
"Cas," he uttered out. And yes, it was Cas, standing at the cash register with messy hair and a tan he never had before. He looked up and met eyes with Dean's green ones. Dean expected joy or relief in his face but all he got was confusion. He stepped forward until he was touching the countertop that divided them.  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demanded. Cas looked around, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You're dead. You're supposed to be dead." Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. His words were incased in breathy pants that he couldn't control.  
"I'm sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else," Cas replied.  
"What the hell are you doing here in Georgia? What the hell happened?" The room felt like it was spinning.  
"Dean!" Sam grabbed his arm. He smiled apologetically at the very bewildered cashier. Sam placed their receipt and a twenty on the counter. "Just, keep the rest. Sorry."  
Sam pushed Dean out of the restaurant. Dean fought back, making a lunge to the door, only to be stopped by six feet of muscle.  
"Dean, stop!" Sam shouted.  
"He's in there! He's alive!" Dean yelled, glimpsing at the much confused cashier leaning by the door.  
"Dean, shut up! Go get in the car." Dejectedly, Dean walked out back and got into the Impala. Sam ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Look, Dean-"  
"What the hell are we doing here, Sammy? We need to go get Cas."  
"He's fine, alright? We have to think rationally about it."  
"The dude was overcome by Leviathans months ago and you want to be rational?!"  
"Okay," Sam started, every the pragmatic one, "for whatever reason, Cas is back. He's obviously had his memory wiped like before. What if- what if he's been given a chance?" Dean scowled at his brother.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Look, if his memory was really wiped, then maybe that's a good thing. I mean can you imagine how it would feel to not remember all the bad shit in our life?"  
"So what? We just leave him?"  
"Well..." Sam looked out the window at the back of the restaurant. "We're staying in the area anyway, so as long as we don't expect anything fishy going on, sure, why not?"

"But who would do that?" Dean questioned. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe…God?" Sam said it in a way that he knew what Dean's reaction would be- complete ridicule.

"Yeah, okay."

"Whatever it is, they're probably good, they did him a favor."

"I don't know..."  
"If we're going on vacation, Cas deserves one too, right?"  
"Yeah..." Dean said faintly. He couldn't believe it. Cas was alive and okay.  
"Turn on the car, Dean," Sam ordered. He turned on the car with mechanical movements, still feeling like he was living in a dream.

They settled into their little sublet, which had nice cable and Wi-Fi. Sam went grocery shopping, promising to get Dean pie and microwaveable cheeseburgers. Dean stayed behind and mowed the lawn, getting done around the same time Sam came back with rabbit food and, as promised, Dean's artificial delicacies. They settled into the couch and watched TV late into the night, arguing over watching (another) Chuck Norris film ("It's Chuck Norris, Sammy!") or Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader ("The only reason you don't like it Dean is because you aren't smarter than a fifth grader"). By eleven, belly full of beer and apple pie, Dean felt fully relaxed. He was so tired that as soon as Sam went up to bed, he didn't bother pulling out the couch bed, he just lay on the couch and slept.


	2. Just a Beer

The next morning, Sam volunteered to help the Fishers with household chores, letting Dean off the hook for the day. He didn't have much to do, so he figured he'd sneak to town. Sam probably wouldn't be happy that Dean planned on going back to Beau's, but he couldn't help it. He had to go see if Cas was there.  
He sat around watching TV (not knowing what to do with himself since it was the first time in a long time that he had free time) for most of the day. At noon, with Sam vacuuming, Dean got into the Impala and left.  
He parked around back and came inside. This time, he sat himself at the bar, close to where Cas was positioned. The place was pretty slow for a Monday afternoon. The cashier looked uncomfortable at seeing Dean again, and he realized that if a crazy person started spouting nonsense at him, he would too.  
After he ordered, he turned around to face the guy in the island.  
"Listen, I'm real sorry about yesterday," Dean apologized. Wearily, the cashier looked up at him.  
"It's alright. Do I... remind you of someone?"  
Dean looked into his crystal blue eyes, examined his dark, messy, brown hair and the toned body he rarely saw out of a suit and trench coat.  
"Yeah... you do," Dean answered, leaving it at that. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "What's your name?"  
"James, and you?" Cas asked. James, he thought, suppressing a laugh. Jimmy for short.  
"My name's Dean," he replied. The cashier had to ring someone up after that, a dark fellow with a large beer gut. When he was done, he turned back to Dean.  
"Listen, I'm really sorry about yesterday. How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?" James blushed.  
"Won't your boyfriend be a little upset?"  
"What boyfriend?" Dean asked, feeling pink himself.  
"The guy you were with..."  
"Ohh, no, I'm not…" Dean felt his face grow hot, "that's my brother, Sam," James seemed relieved, but Dean tried not to notice. "So what do you say? I saw a bar down the street that looked nice."  
"Moe's? Nah, the owners a piece of shit." Dean smiled at Cas' sudden potty mouth. He rarely heard the angel curse. It was like Cas was more of a normal human being rather than an emotionally constipated, antiquated angel. "I know a better place, just outside of town."  
"Awesome. What do you say, tonight?"  
"I've got work tonight," James replied. "but tomorrow I'm free."  
Dean was overjoyed. Maybe this time, this one time, he could enjoy Cas' camaraderie without all the angel, demon, monster, whatever bullshit. It could be nice.  
"Here you go, anything else?" Jessica asked, setting down his plate.  
"Try the peach cobbler," James whispered. Dean grinned.  
"And I'll have some peach cobbler," Dean answered, glimpsing at James. He was rewarded with one of Cas' rare smiles. It would be hard to call him James, but he could manage- for James' sake.

Dean left Beau's with James' phone number, address and a smile on his face. Georgia was turning out to be a place for a second chance rather than a vacation.  
He tucked the slip of paper James gave him in his pocket as he walked into the door of his house.  
"Where've you been?" Sam asked as soon as he arrived.  
"Nowhere, just cruisin' around," Dean replied in what he hoped was an off-handed way. If he told Sam he ate lunch he would know he went back to Beau's, and then Sam would give him crap for messing up Cas' second chance.  
"Ah, gotcha." Sam turned back to the TV before asking, "so what's her name?"  
"Oh, give me a break." Dean closed the fridge after retrieving a beer.  
"C'mon, you can tell me."  
"There's no one, honest."  
"Right, okay."  
"Move your feet," Dean grumbled as he sat on the couch.  
"You're doing chores tomorrow," Sam informed.  
"What's on the agenda?"  
"Tatiana wants all the windows to be cleaned."  
"Well, well, who knew we'd be going domesticate, eh, Sammy?" Dean gave his brother a cheesy grin and a punch to the shoulder as Sam rolled his eyes.  
"Sammy is an eleven year old girl that just hit puberty," Sam complained.  
"Then you two sound like two peas in a pod."

The next day Dean helped around the house, cleaning the dishes and the windows.  
"Even when my son was here he didn't help out this much!" Tatiana exclaimed. "He was a good boy though. He was very intelligent all throughout school. He was offered a teaching job in Macon, and we were so proud. He teaches history."  
It was nice to listen to Tatiana talk. She was the grandmother he never had. She always offered little biscuits or lemonade, and she even felt bad that she was making Dean and Sam do all the work.  
"What do you spend your time on?" Dean wondered.  
"Me and the other retired ladies in town do baking sales, book clubs and parties and such. We're part of the Elks Lodge here. It's a nice little organization that donates to veterans. My father was a vet."  
"So was mine," Dean replied without thinking. Aw, screw it, Dean thought. He could tell someone about himself and maybe even appear as a normal human being.  
"Is that so? Where are you boys from anyway?"  
"Kansas."  
"Oh, that's lovely! They grow'em fine there."  
After a few hours of listening to the old couple chatter as he fulfilled a number of chores, Dean returned home. Sam was on his laptop.  
"Feels kind of weird having so much time to do anything we want," Sam mentioned as Dean walked through the door.  
"Yeah, it does," Dean agreed. He turned on the TV and tried as best he could to casually say, "so I'm thinking about going to the bar in a bit."  
"Oh, okay. I'll come too," Sam piped up.  
"No," Dean said hurriedly. He glanced at Sam, who was giving him a funny look. "I mean, I kind of want to spend some time by myself."  
Sam examined him for a moment, and then shrugged.  
"Yeah, whatever."  
Dean knew his feelings were hurt, but he knew if Sam realized what he was doing he would stop him. And that couldn't happen.

Dean got in his car at around seven to pick up James. He lived, to what Dean later found out, in a sprawling mansion that was once a plantation owner's. Acres upon acres of fields and lush Spanish moss. The driveway was lined with drooping trees, who's branches and leaves sagged as if the heat was too much to bear. After the long driveway was a big cement wall with a black iron gate, which was opened. Dean drove up into the driveway, the Impala purring as he parked it in front of a huge off-white mansion, complete with wraparound porch for the first and second floor. Dean was amazed. How did Cas end up here?  
James came walking out of the house in jeans and a long sleeved plaid shirt. He bounded down the stairs and into Dean's car.  
"This place is incredible," Dean said, pausing to look at the home before he backed out of the driveway. James put on his seatbelt and smiled at the driver.  
"I agree."  
"Where did you get it?"  
"It's been in the family for generations," James said. Of course, Dean thought.  
"You live with anyone else?" The hunter asked. James shook his head.  
"No... it's just me." Dean ignored the glance James gave him.  
They drove for a few minutes making idle chit chat until they came across a bar titled Southern Bells with neon lit bells and everything.  
"I know the owner here, he's a good guy," James supplied as they got out of the car. The sun was almost set, the parking lot dark.  
The bar was busy tonight, with a few guys playing pool, even more at booths and some sprinkled at the bar, music blaring in the background. The walls were all maroon with exposed brick, the floors a dark stained wood.  
James led the way to two empty bar stools. They both ordered a beer.  
"So you're new in town," James stated.  
"Yeah, taking a little vacation."  
"What do you do?" James asked. Dean paused for a moment.  
"Me and my brother are... hunters. We go all over the country hunting."  
"For animals?" James wondered. Dean took a sip of his beer and nodded. "I don't think I could do that. I'm a wuss when it comes to hurting things."  
Dean's lips stretches into a smile, knowing quite the contrary.  
"So a rough-and-tumble guy like you floats into town, and somehow ends up in my restaurant on a Sunday afternoon?" Dean shrugs and gives James a small smile. "You are something else."  
"You guys have good BBQ. There's nothing I like more than a pig roasted over a fire," Dean responds.  
"And peach cobbler."  
"Oh, yeah, to die for," Dean said, leaning in. This was so easy. Their bond was effortless, no matter what life Castiel led.  
"So what do you plan to do with your life, besides serving the great people of Savannah?" Dean asked, pulling away.  
"I haven't got a plan," James responded.  
"Really?"  
"I enjoy quiet life here. It's safe."  
"Safe?"  
"Uh...yes," James glanced away at Dean.  
"That's an odd way of putting it," he mumbled, taking a swig of beer.  
"It's the truth. Nothing happens here. Not until a raving lunatic comes in spouting nonsense about why I'm here," James ended the statement with a simper. Their attention turned to a TV above the bar. A reporter was going over the details of the murder spree. They flashed a picture of the murderer- well, before he was vamped and beheaded by Dean.

"Safe, huh?" Dean said.

"Freak accident," James replied casually, taking one more cautionary peek at the screen. There was a lull in the conversation when James said, "so how come your brother freaked out Jessica?"

"He really freaked her out?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, she was really confused. He was acting weird." Dean glanced away, finding the strength to say the next few words he knew would have to be altered from the truth.

"He had a girlfriend awhile back that was… murdered," he explained. It didn't feel right lying to Cas, but it wasn't really Cas, was it? It was just a man that looked like Cas, or rather- a vessel with Cas in it who didn't know he was Cas. Dean's brain hurt.

"Oh, and her name was Jessica?" His voice lowered a few octaves the way people do when discussing sad subjects.

"Yeah." Dean peered into James' eyes, taking a sip of his beer.

"I'm sorry." Dean was so used to people saying this, giving him a pitied look, that he didn't bother responding.

"He was the one that found her," Dean said, knowing he didn't have to discuss it but feeling the need to. "He found her, and… he was a wreck. And I pulled him out of the room."

James said nothing, perhaps knowing that there wasn't anything needed to be said. Finally he broke the silence surrounding them with a laugh.

"Well, this has been light-hearted and fun," James said, trying to give Dean a reassuring smile. They continued talking, Dean holding back all the things he wanted to tell Cas. They had a couple more drinks before James called it a night, saying he had the morning shift tomorrow and needed to get some sleep.

Dean drove him home, rolling up the long driveway and finally to the front steps. He put his baby in park and glanced over at James.

"This was nice," James gave him a lighthearted grin.

"Yeah, it was," Dean agreed. Pause.

"Aren't you going to walk me to the door?" James asked in a playful tone.

"Um…sure," Dean said, a bit hesitant. They both exited the car and walked up the steps until they were at the door. James pulled out his keys and turned to Dean.

And suddenly it hit Dean. Like really hit him. James thought that they were on a date. James thought Dean asked him out on a date. And now he was expecting Dean to kiss him. He was even leaning in, his lips parted.

"I have to go," Dean blurted out, pulling away. He couldn't bear to look at James' hurt expression to he turned away. "I'll, uh… see you around."

"Yeah, bye," James said wistfully. Dean walked to the Impala, not daring to look back.

He arrived home, glad that Sam was already up in the bedroom. He didn't need Sam around asking him questions and badgering him. He unrolled the futon and turned on the TV, getting into a comfy position on the bed.

His thoughts drifted to James. Okay, more like raced to them. He was confused beyond anything. Did that mean that Cas was attracted to him too? All this time, did Cas love him? And where did that leave Dean?

He knew it, in the pit of his hell-beaten soul, that he loved Cas. Why else would he still need him, even after the decisions he made? Why else would he still pray for Cas, to somehow come back. He wanted Cas to be alive, and now here he was. Albeit, he wasn't the real Cas, personality wise. But there had to be some sort of similarities, like loving Dean despite the circumstances.

He passed out with the TV still on and his thoughts consumed by the angel.

Authors Note: Sorry this one is a bit shorter. The smu- ahem- the story really picks up in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed :)


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